


Endearments

by lornrocks



Category: Fandom: Heroes
Genre: 5+1, Endearments, M/M, can you tell i fucking love endearments, fiveplusone, petnames, promptmemefill, thewall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 05:56:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lornrocks/pseuds/lornrocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a prompt where someone wanted a 5 + 1 fic where the boys used pet names.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Endearments

5\. The first time, it had been around a month since Peter had arrived in Sylar's mind. He was kind of giving Sylar the silent treatment- Okay, he was. But who could blame him? Even after they had found the wall, Peter still refused to talk to the other man more than was necessary.

One day, Peter was taking a break from hitting the wall, when he noticed that Sylar had been standing there, watching him for some time.

"Why won't you talk to me?" he asks.

Peter sighs and puts his bottle of water down. Where could he begin? The man had basically tried to kill him ever since he first saw him, and if it weren't for Claire's healing, he would have succeeded.

Plus, Peter could never forget all the horrible things he's done to people Peter cares about: his ma, Claire, Mohinder, Matt, Nathan...

Nathan.

That was the deal breaker, there.

Peter turns back to the expectant man and answers simply, "You're a murderer."

"Don't let that come between us, baby," Sylar responds, trying to add humor in the situation. It doesn't go over so well.

Peter glares and picks up his hammer, getting back to work.

4\. The next time, they're both sitting in Sylar's beat down apartment, starring down at the food they don't have to be eating, but do so out of habit anyway.

Peter's actually started feeling a little lonely, disconnected. He misses having someone to talk to. Where he used to have Emma, Hesam, his mom- Now, he only has Sylar. The one man he'd rather go mute than talk to.

He briefly debates saying something, but comes to a dead halt when he realizes he wouldn't even know where to begin. Sylar has the distinct advantage of knowing more about Peter than Peter knows about him, and it's troubling.

He decides on a neutral subject.

"I think I might try a little longer at the Wall today."

Sylar looks up a little surprised, clearly unsure of how to respond after being ignored for so long.

"Yeah?" he says, at last.

Peter nods and looks down. He can't stand making eye contact.

Eye contact would mean he'd have to actually fully acknowledge the other man.

"...Maybe I could keep you company?" Sylar tries, and even though Peter can't see it, he just knows deep down Sylar's looking at him with those eyes of his. Those stupid, dark, sad, hopeful, contradictory eyes of his.

"I don't think that's such a good idea."

There's a long pause, and Peter actually has to look up to make sure the other man is even still there. Sylar's looking at him with a look so wounded that he feels a physical pull in his chest from it.

Sylar stands up from the table and walks over to the sink, pretending to look out the window.

"Why are you like this? Why can't you just be nice for _once_?" His voice is strained.

Suddenly Peter doesn't feel so good anymore.

"I just want to get us out of here," he tries.

"We're never going to get out of here, Peter. Why can't you see that?"

Peter stands up and grabs his coat from the back of his chair.

"I'm going to the Wall. Don't follow me."

Before the door shuts behind him, he hears the other man's reply:

"Whatever you say, peaches."

3\. They've been there for at least four years the next time it happens. Peter's not sure exactly what's happened. All he knows is that something has changed, and now, things weren't exactly bad between the two of them. Sometimes they talked, and hung out, and worked, and things were okay.

Sometimes one of them would say or do something, and then all the words in the world weren't going to help them.

Today, however, was a good day. Or, at least it was. That was before Sylar's favorite book had finally fallen apart and it had started raining almost ridiculously hard. Finding it impossible to work no matter what he did, Peter resigned himself to waiting it out in Sylar's apartment.

He opens the door and finds its owner standing in the kitchen, stirring a steaming pot on the stove. He turns when he hears the door open and the faintest hint of a smile spreads across his face.

"Darling, you look terrible."

"Like you're one to talk."

He ignores the feeling the endearment gives him and goes to find some towels.

2\. They've finally busted out of the nightmare and found what they needed to know. Matt didn't seem too happy about letting Sylar go, but he had let them, so Peter was quick to get the other man out of Matt's house.

"So what's the plan, hero?" Sylar asks, and Peter almost stops dead in his tracks.

"Well, we have to get to New York," he begins, and Sylar adds, "Really soon."

Peter grabs Sylar's hand and starts searching for his flying ability, which he gladly takes. It's one of his favorites, and he's glad to have it back.

If he holds on to Sylar's hand a little longer than is necessary to take his power, Sylar doesn't say anything, although the look he's giving Peter gives him pause.

Dropping the other man's hand, Peter looks skyward.

"Let's go."

And then they're both off, flying.

1\. They've defeated Samuel, but now they have a new problem in their lives. Watching Claire jump to her death from on top of the ferris wheel, Peter knows deep down things are going to change again. Before the camera crews can get to him, he steals a glance at Sylar and heads off to find Emma again.

Once they've escorted her safely back to her apartment, Peter heads back to his own apartment. Sylar watches quietly as Peter starts to pack up his bags with clothes and other things.

"What are you doing?"

Peter doesn't bother looking up, but continues folding a shirt.

"I'm packing."

"Why?"

"Because I'd rather not be here when they find out about my family's history with people with abilities."

Sylar shakes his head.

"I think you're overreacting. There's no way the media will find out, and I doubt Claire would rat her own uncle out."

"Better safe than sorry," Peter mumbles back, slipping past Sylar to grab some things from his bathroom.

Sylar follows. Of course.

"I thought I was supposed to be the pessimistic one?" he says, finally, and Peter shrugs.

"Things happen."

Peter tries to get past Sylar back into his bedroom, but Sylar doesn't move. Instead, he gently pushes Peter against a wall so he'll hold still long enough to listen to the other man.

"Honey, things happen all the time. It doesn't mean we should panic and hide."

His voice sounds a little condescending, as it usually does. Peter doesn't like it at all.

So he shoves Sylar aside and goes back into his bedroom, pretending that there was no truth to those words.

0\. Despite the other man's protests, he follows Peter anyway. They find themselves in a hotel in the midwest, in a room with two tiny beds that for some reason, has a giant shower and dim lighting.

They've spent the past few nights just laying low, reading and talking. They've started a routine, where they usually read a little before bed, then after they turn the lights off, talking quietly to each other from the little space between their beds.

Where once Peter thought he didn't know anything about Sylar, now he's confident he knows everything. He knows that the other man loves peach pie, his favorite season is autumn, he's read over five hundred books, and he sings in the shower. He has a small scar underneath his right eyebrow, his mom collected snow globes, and he's always wanted to see Rome.

What he doesn't know, though, is when he started falling in love with Sylar.

He tries to remember when exactly he had realized it while lying in his bed one night. The lights are out, and maybe Sylar is asleep, although Peter isn't sure. The space between their beds is about a foot and a half, so Peter gently reaches out and touches his hand to Sylar's. A second later, the fingers underneath his own curl around him, and he takes that as a sign. He very quietly slides out of his own bed and into the other man's, straddling him on top of the covers.

He doesn't need to say anything as he bends his neck down and kisses Sylar carefully, reveling the sensation of the warm hands gently cradling his body. They kiss in contented silence for a while, happy to be able to just enjoy the comfort and closeness of their bodies. It takes some willpower, but Peter manages to pull away.

"I love you," he says, even though he doesn't need to.

"I know, sweetheart."

This time, the other man's words are soft, genuine. Sylar tilts his head up to catch Peter's lips again.

"I love you, too."

Their exchange has a calming effect on Peter, and with one last kiss, he tucks his body against the other man's and lets him whisper endearments into his ear until he falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Written forever ago for LJ.


End file.
